the back of my neck, and her fingers felt warm in the cool river breeze. 'Yeah, like that,' I said. 'And when I heard of The Club; well, I couldn't quite believe that somebody had had the guts to create it on that scale. I was dazzled. I was crazy. I knew I would get into The Club no matter what I had to do.' I closed my eyes for just a second as I kissed her. I slipped my arm around her, lifting her towards me, kissing her again. '
Be proud of it,' I whispered. 'Of what?' 'Of The Club, baby doll. Be brave enough to be proud of it,' I said. She looked vague and a little bruised, and softened all over from the kissing. 'I can't think about it all right now,' she said. 'I can't figure it out.' I could feel her heating up, lips taut, luscious. 'Okay. But be proud of it,' I said, kissing her just a little harder, opening her mouth. 'Don't talk anymore about it,' she said, drawing up closer, her arm around my waist. We were our own little heat wave on the deck. Anybody coming around might get burnt. 'How much longer do we have to stay on this tub?' I asked, whispering in her ear. 'I don't know,' she said. Her eyes were closed. She was kissing my cheek. 'I want to be alone with you,' I said. 'I want to be alone with you back at the hotel.' 'Kiss me again,' she said. 'Yes, Madam.'
Chapter Twenty-Five
25 -- Elliott
'The Lady in My Life'
We stopped on the way back for some wine and a load of delicacies -- caviar and crackers, apples, sour cream, smoked oysters. I bought some cinnamon and butter and bread, lots of French yoghurt, a cold bottle of Dom Perignon (the best they had, $50) and a package of liquor store wine glasses. When we got to the room, I ordered an ice bucket, turned off the air conditioner again, and latched the shutters the way I had the first time. It was just getting dusk, vivid, sweet New Orleans dusk with the sky blood red and the pink oleander glowing in the tangle of the garden. The heat lingered in the air the way it never does on the coast. There was a velvety feel to the warmth and the room was full of dusty shadows. Lisa had crumpled up all the telephone messages and thrown them away. She was sitting on the bed, the white dress up on her thighs, her shoes tossed in the corner. She had a large crystal bottle of perfume in her hand and she was smoothing the perfume into her skin all over. She massaged it into her neck, and into her calves. She rubbed it into the spaces between her toes. When the exquisite little mulatto child brought the ice he brought more messages. 'Will you throw those away?' Lisa asked. She didn't look at them. I opened the champagne and got it to bubble just about perfectly into the two glasses. I sat down beside her and reached lightly, slowly, for the buttons down the back of her dress. The perfume wasn't Chanel this time. It was Chalandre.
Blissfully overpowering. I took the bottle from her and put it on the table, gave her the champagne. The perfume mingled with the sunny smell of her hair and her skin. Her lips were wet from the champagne. She said, 'Do you miss The Club?' 'No,' I said. 'You know, the paddles and the straps and all that, do you miss it?' 'No,' I said again kissing her. 'Unless of course you have the overwhelming desire to beat the hell out of me. In which case, I'll throw myself on your mercy as a gentleman should. But I have something else in mind, something I've always wanted to do.' 'Do it,' she said. She slipped off the dress. Her tanned skin was very dark against the white spread, and the light was good enough still to see the strawberry pink of her nipples. I ran my hand down between her legs, cradling her, touching the soft, secret hair, and then I slipped away from her, and went quietly out of the room into the dark little kitchen. When I came back I had the butter with me and the little box of ground cinnamon. I stripped off my clothes. She was leaning back on her arms, and the thrust of